


Boy, Interrupted

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Asylum, Basically it's set in an asylum so there's lots of potential triggers, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Suicide, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something, when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy. Maybe it was the sixties.<br/>Or maybe, I was just a boy, interrupted.</p><p>Sebastian Moran's experiences of Somerville Asylum.<br/>Girl, Interrupted AU. Heavily, heavily based on the film. You don't need to have seen the film, but it's completely overflowing with spoilers. You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jim grins at the nurse as the police drag him back into the mental hospital and uncuff him, flexing his fingers and rubbing at his raw wrists. The other patients are watching, he knows, and he rolls his head, grinning at all of them.

“It's good to be home!” he calls, shrugging off his coat and letting it fall. His eyes are still roaming, searching out a familiar head of black curls even as he empties his pocket of his pen knife and other bits and bobs he's picked up. When they land where expected, he instead finds a curious looking boy lingering in the door way to his room. His hair is a shaggy mess of brown and his face is blank.

“Who's that?” he asks, smile immediately dropping from his face. He fights himself free and prowls over to the boy. The other patients move out of his way, as if fearing an explosion at any minute. He swings the door shut behind him and blocks it with a chair to stop the nurses or police stopping him.

“Who're you?” he snarls, venom in his voice. He moves forward, backing the boy into a corner and slamming his hand against the wall beside his head. “Who the fuck are you?”

The boy shows no sign of fear, although he moves easily as Jim pushes him, as if deciding the effort of fighting back isn't worth it. He looks at Jim levelly through grey-blue eyes, assessing him before opening his mouth to answer, to tell him that his name's Sebastian and ask who the hell he is. Jim doesn't give him the chance.

"Why're you here? Why is your shit on his bed?"

He can hear them trying to get into the room, the nurses and the police, but the chair will hold up for another while.

"Where's Sherlock?" He raises his voice, practically screaming now. "Where's Sherlock and WHY IS YOUR SHIT ON HIS BED?"

“I don't know what you're talking about!” Sebastian snaps back, giving the smaller boy a hard shove. He stumbles back but almost immediately pounces forward again, baring his teeth and glowering inches from Sebastian's face. “I don't know. What. You're talking about.”

The chair gives. The door swings open. Jim's head swivels between the head nurse, Valerie, and the boy he still has pinned against the wall. He moves back but keeps one hand beside the Sebastian's head. His question is now aimed at Val.

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Back off of him.”

“Where's Sherlock?”

“You've been gone two weeks, Jim. Things have changed. Now back off."

It dawns on him, suddenly and painfully, but shockingly unsurprising.

"How'd he do it? How, Valerie? How did he DO IT?" He doesn't get an answer, just forcefully dragged from the room as he kicks and fights against them. He sends the boy, his new room mate, the darkest look he can muster. Sebastian simply stares back, a bit angry and a lot confused. He knows, of course, that it's a mad house and these things happen, but it's his first day and he wasn't exactly expecting to get jumped on his first fucking day. Jim's still shouting as they pull him into the hall. “You're all weak people. Victims. Fucking victims, all of you”

From outside the room, another nurse approaches with a needle to sedate Jim. Sebastian can hear his cries change to those of protest through the wall. His voice cracks, fear and desperation bleeding through like a child begging his mother not to punish him. Despite his anger, the sound makes Sebastian shudder. A small part of him pities Jim. Whatever is happening must be bad to force those sounds from him. He slides silently to the door and peeks around.

"No," Jim shrieks, trying desperately to escape. Two of the policemen are holding him in place as he struggles violently against them, one holding him beneath the arms and the other keeping his legs from kicking out. "No, no, Val, please, stop her, I'll be good. No, no-"

His cries cut off as the needle sinks into his arm, and within a handful of seconds he's rendered meek and placid as they cart him off to another room.

"We need to cut his nails again," the nurse notes, sounding slightly bored, as if this is a process she goes through all too often. Sebastian feels shaken. If this is regular behaviour around here, he's in for some hell of a stay.

He takes a shaky breath and looks across the hall. One of the boys – Henry, he thinks he remembers the nurse scolding him earlier – meets his eye and offers him a pleasant smile. Half of his face is covered in scar tissue. A soft, pink, lumpy mess of scars that make his face look uneven.

“What the hell was that?” Sebastian asks, hearing his own voice come out harsh and slightly breathless. A dark haired boy who Sebastian knows only as Anderson is curled against the wall, crying into his hands.

“That was Jim,” he manages to force out around a sob.

“And Sherlock was his room mate?”

Henry walks across to him, the same pleasant smile on his face. Sebastian doesn't know how anyone can be happy in here, especially after what just happened, but Henry always seems to be smiling. There's no malice to it, no mocking. It's soft and sweet, and he tilts his head slightly as he looks at Sebastian.

“Sherlock was Jim's best friend. He got sad last week 'cause Jim left and threw himself off the roof.”

Sebastian doesn't know what to say. It's not that death is any great shock to him. It happens to everyone. He was even expecting it himself, what with the chances of him being drafted for the war. A secret part of him was excited to get to know it so intimately, but now he probably won't get the chance. He looks down at Anderson, still crying on the floor, then back up at Henry who is now drifting back towards the television room. It's going to be a long stay.


	2. Chapter 2

 It's later that night when Sebastian curls himself into the corner of the sofa, as far away from any of the others as he can manage. Henry's beside him and thus far Henry has seemed relatively normal. A bit too happy for Sebastian's liking, but sweet, simple. He doesn't think Henry's hiding anything and he doesn't think he's at any risk from him. He's not entirely sure what's wrong with him but it must be something to do with the scarring on his face. Sitting beside Henry had seemed like the safest option when he entered the TV room.

“Meds!” Calls the bored voice of the nurse from the station. Suddenly everyone rises and scurries towards it. Sebastian starts at the sudden flurry of movement, sitting straighter and glancing over his shoulder. He hears his name and doesn't react at first. As it's repeated, the tone growing more irritated each time, he finally rises and moves slowly to the little glass window.

“Sebastian Mor- _an_.” There's a real bite to her tone now. Sebastian pushes through the line and gives her a puzzled expression.

“Yea?”

“I'm Mrs. Hudson and these are your meds.” She pushes a little plastic container, like the kind of cups he remembers from birthday parties but smaller, across the counter towards him.

“What are they?”

“They'll help you sleep.”

“It's ten thirty, I'm not-”

There's a sudden cloud of smoke blown in his face and an irritated sigh follows. He turns to see the man he'd spotted on his first tour of the ward. He's unsure of his name, but he's tall with auburn hair and a permanent look of displeasure across his face.

“For Christ's sake,” the man hisses, clearly displeased at the wait.

“You can talk it over in the morning, with your doctor. For now we'll just have to agree to disagree.” Mrs Hudson gives him a pointed look that suggests she's not open to arguments and pushes the container closer, prompting him to take it. Sebastian does so, slowly. He's about to step back when her eyes narrow.

“Take them here.” This time there's a proper plastic cup slid across the counter to him. “Have some water.”

Grudgingly, Sebastian tips the tablets into his mouth. Taking a drink of water, he swallows them with a grimace. He barely sets the cup down before the man with the cigarette is pushing him out of the way. Sebastian decides he doesn't particularly like him.

He wanders down the hall, not yet feeling the effects. It hasn't been a day and he already hates it here. He's almost at the end of the corridor when he notices the open door to a room he hadn't seen earlier. Glancing in, Sebastian feels his blood run cold.

Jim is sitting cross legged on the floor, his body limp and sagging against the wall, his head falling forward like a rag doll that won't quite stay up. He's lost the clothes he was wearing earlier and is now clad in a grey hospital gown that was once white. There's a nurse crouching beside him. She tugs his head back, shining a light into his eyes. Seeing Jim's face only makes Sebastian feel worse. All the animation from earlier, the energy that was practically over flowing, is gone. His eyes are heavily lidded and his stare is blank. The nurse has to lift his eyelids to check his eyes. His jaw is slack and lips parted. She lets his head go, allowing it to roll back to its previous position. After checking his pulse she pushes up from her crouch, giving a little nod for the guard to lock the door as she steps out of the room.

Sebastian staggers slightly as he turns away, feeling sick and woozy. He's not sure how much is from what he just witnessed and how much is an effect of the tablets they forced him to take. He sways as he tries to make it back to his room, having to lean heavily against the wall.

Everything fades, then flashes back in vibrant colour. Only it's different. He's no longer in the wide corridor with painful fluorescent lighting and dirty tiles. He's at graduation, sitting in one of those uncomfortable folding chairs with the stupid cloak and the stupid hat. The sun is shining on the back of his neck, head bent forward and face relaxed in sleep. There's a vague awareness of hearing his name, but not enough to cause him to stir. It's only when someone nudges him that he jolts awake.

He's lying down now, on scratchy sheets. There's light in his face and he screws up his eyes against it, hissing in annoyance and the pain of sudden brightness when you've been in the dark. Slowly the room begins to piece together. He's in the hospital again, curled on the creaky bed as a nurse peeks around the door, aiming a torch at him.

“Checks,” is all she says, and disappears again. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed, groggy and confused, missing his own room and his own bed. His fingers stroke along the bandage on his wrist. He shouldn't be here. He's not crazy. He's not anything they think he is. He just had a headache, and wanted the pain to go away. As for his hand – they don't understand. The bones were _gone_. He was there. He saw it, felt it. They just came back after – after what? Something. Pain. So much pain. That's what the aspirin was for. Not a suicide attempt. The vodka was just to help it go down. He didn't really want to die.

Did he?

Sebastian doesn't think about it too long. He's drifting again, like a leaf falling from a tree, swaying in the autumn breeze as it falls. The world is shifting, images flashing by. He's being pinned to a bed, strapped down even as he struggles. There's a doctor and nurses, bile coming up his throat. They dig a needle into his arm and he jerks. He tilts his head. They hold a metal bowl for him to vomit into. There's a tube down his throat and the doctor pushes it further, making him gag again. Someone's asking questions but he's dizzy and sick and, his hand, he needs to tell them. That's important.

“You should check my hand,” he slurs. “There's no... Bones. They're gone.”

They see the bruises. The doctor asks him if this is why. Is this why you did it, Sebastian? Sebastian?

“Another thing,” he mumbles, head rolling to the side, intrusion removed from his throat. “I can't... Stay in one place... Too long.”

Then he's fading again. The world is a blur of colours and he's Alice falling down the rabbit hole, only there's no Wonderland. There's nothing except the dark depths of his mind and the colours flashing by so fast now it's making him feel sick. He sees flashes of things, people, faces and memories he can't keep up with. His professor folding him over the desk and thrusting forward into him. John's hands warm and soft against his face. Then Jim, silent, head hanging forward as if his neck were unable to hold the weight, trapped in the padded cell.

“Checks.”

He rolls over, half squinting, half glaring at the elderly nurse in the door. She glances at Jim's empty bed before turning and leaving. Sebastian sighs heavily, sinking down into the mattress for another ten minutes.

When he finally leaves his room, he finds Anderson in the corner of the TV room reading. He glances up when Sebastian comes over to him.

“Do they do that all the time? The checks thing?”

“More frequently because you're new. They'll not do it as often after a while.” He looks back to his book, licking his thumb and turning the page.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Technically you just did, but all right.”

“That boy, Henry. How did he get all, you know...” Sebastian makes a vague gesture toward his face, clearly indicating the scars.

“When Henry was a little boy,” Anderson's voice is low, quiet, as if he's letting Sebastian in on a secret. Seb shifts closer. “His dad took him out on a camping trip. During the night there was a noise. Henry's dad told him to stay in the tent while he went to check it out, but Henry went after him. While he was walking through the dark woods he got mauled by a bear. He was lucky to even survive.”

Sebastian's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“What about you?” he risks asking. “Why're you here?”

“Pseudologia fantastica.”

“What's that?” Sebastian asks, brow furrowing in confusion. A slow smile spreads across Anderson's face as he replies.

“I'm a pathological liar.”

With that he returns to his book, leaving Sebastian questioning everything he'd just been told and making a mental note not to trust the boy in future. He didn't like the look of him much anyway.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

A few days later it happens. Sebastian's curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, scribbling away in his diary. The drafting is on the TV and one of the men – another Sebastian, Seb's heard his name when they get called for meds – keeps shouting 'Bingo! Bingo!' each time a new date is called. He's only half paying attention, but his head jerks up at the sound of March 31st being called.

“Oh, my God.”

He suddenly has a painfully vivid flashback. Leaning against the wall of a club, dragging on a cigarette. Dark, smoky, lights flashing every so often in blasts of brilliant colour. Post-graduation celebration. He's swaying slightly to the music without any real enthusiasm. Then John Watson, weaving through the crowd and smiling at him.

“Sebastian, right? I'm John. Harry's brother.”

Sebastian accepts his handshake and eyes him warily. He gives a little nod to let him know he knows who he's referring to.

“I was at graduation. You're, uh. You're pretty when you sleep.”

He doesn't remember exactly how it happened, but somehow it went from there to the alley. Messy kissing and clumsy hands. Then John's car, and somehow he manages to get them back even with Sebastian's lips attached to his neck. Pinned against the front door. Stumbling down the steps to the basement. Falling into bed together.

Then afterwards, Sebastian had lay across from him and looked into his soft eyes. For once he felt like he could be open about himself. Again, he doesn't remember, but somehow they get onto the topic of suicide.

“How would you do it?”

“I dunno.” John looks away. “I guess I've never really thought about it.”

“Once it's in your head though, you can't shake it. Like a disease. It twists you. Morphs you into this strange new breed preoccupied with its own demise. It becomes a game of sorts. Everything filters into it. Even the little things. Make a stupid remark, kill yourself. You liked the movie, live. Miss the train, kill yourself.”

John sighs, expression darkening. Sebastian glances at him curiously. He pushes himself up onto his elbow, looking down at John.

“What?”

“Let's not talk about it any more.”

“Why?”

“Because it's... Stupid. Sebastian, no, wait, what are you doing?”

Sebastian ignores him, rolling out of bed and shimmying into his jeans, not bothering with his boxers. He grabs his shirt, pulling that on and fumbling with the buttons even as he attempts to step into his shoes.

“Oh, what, is this because I don't want to kill myself? Suddenly I'm not cool to you?”

“I don't want to die!” Sebastian turns on him, snapping. He's nearly finished his buttons, abandoning the shirt and leaving the top few undone as he pulls the back of his shoes over his heels. “I was just talking.”

“Look, Seb. The world's fucked up. It's so fucked up that if some draft zombie pulls our names from a barrel, we're dead. That's it. That's our death sentence.”

Sebastian stills, looking at John for a moment. His expression is serious, eyes assessing him before he speaks.

“When's your birthday?”

John is silent for a moment.

“March 31st.”

“I'll pray for you.”

With that he's gone, storming out the door.

“What?”

Sebastian blinks, coming back to reality. Several of the boys have turned around and are staring at him with curious eyes. He clears his throat.

“A guy I know was just drafted.”

“What's his name?” The question comes from Greg. His hair leads Sebastian to believe he's older than he looks, but his condition makes him look somewhere in his twenties. He's anorexic, skinnier than anyone Sebastian's ever seen with prominent bones visible beneath the surface of his skin. Since Sebastian's been in he's never seen him in anything other than one of the washed out hospital gowns. Val says he can't have his clothes until he eats. Greg glances over the back of the couch in front of the TV, taking a deep inhale from his cigarette as he waits for an answer.

“John.”

Greg lets the smoke out in a long, slow exhale, sending it spiralling upwards.

“He's dead now.”

Sebastian stares at the TV, frowning, because that's exactly what John's probably thinking right now. He swallows, sitting back and looking down at the scribbles in his notebook. The sound of someone shouting draws his attention, and he looks down the corridor.

“Get out of my room, Jim!”

“I'm not in your room, Mycroft. I'm right here.”

It's the impatient man with the cigarette that Sebastian had taken a dislike to during his first night. Mycroft lets out a sound of great annoyance before slamming the door hard in Jim's face. Jim throws his head and laughs, twirling in a graceful movement and skipping down towards the TV room. The other Sebastian stretches his arms out from the sofa and Jim obliges by dropping into them, nuzzling fondly against him and nibbling on a finger when it's offered. Sebastian watches curiously. There seems to have been a complete transformation from the angry, violent boy he met several days ago.

“You're looking better, Jim,” says one of the nurses. A sweet looking woman who flushes easily. Sebastian likes her.

“Thanks, Molly.” Jim grins up at her, shuffling to sit forward a bit. “How's the engagement?”

“Oh.” She blushes, a pink streak soaking through her face. “You know.”

“I don't. I've been away.”

“Martin wants me to...” Molly gives a little nod, turning an even darker shade of red. “You know. Before the wedding.”

Jim's grin widens and he swings further forward, leaning over the edge of the sofa and locking eyes with her.

“Fuck his brains out. Use a rubber.” With that, Jim rolls off the couch, landing catlike in a crouch before springing to his feet and skipping around into the center of the room. He freezes, eyes locked on Sebastian, before casually sauntering over. Grabbing a chair, he twirls it and sits backwards, facing Seb.

“Can I bum one?” He nods towards the pack of cigarettes protruding from Sebastian's pocket. He looks at Jim thoughtfully for a moment. Well, if they're going to be stuck in the same room he may as well make an effort. He nods and slowly holds out the pack. “Thanks.”

Jim tilts his head back for Molly to light him up. He takes a deep inhale and blows a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, right into the face of an elderly patient. The man simply blinks, seemingly unaware of the smoke cloud now surrounding his face. Jim grins, eyes never leaving Sebastian as he leans forward over the chair again.

“So, been to see your therapist yet?” Jim splits the word up, making it sound like fair-rapist. He tilts his head, dark eyes wide and curious. It's a stark contrast to the anger from their first meeting and Sebastian relaxes a bit. Jim doesn't seem to want to rip his throat out any more. That's something, at least. Before he can answer, Jim powers on, seemingly content to talk to himself as long as he has an audience. “Unless... Unless they're giving you shocks?”

Jim shakes, doing a rather good impression of someone being electrocuted. Sebastian shakes his head. No. No shock treatment for him, thank fuck.

"Or, God forbid, letting you out! Then you get to see the great Dr. Dyke.”

“He means Dr. Wick,” Molly corrects. She's still flushed, and despite the correction her voice still holds a note of fondness. Clearly Jim's popular around here in spite of his mood swings. She gives Sebastian a small smile as she passes to the nurse's office.

“I've been in his office,” Seb says, looking from Molly to Jim. “But I haven't met him yet.”

“She.” The correction comes from Greg who's watching them over the back of the couch. “Dr. Wick's a girl.”

“That's right, Greggy-boy. Wick's a chick.”

“Wick's a chick,” repeats the other Sebastian, gazing blankly at the television. “Wick's a chick.”

Sebastian's attention drifts from them back to Jim, who's taking another deep drag of his cigarette. His expression is glazed over for a few seconds. Then he blinks, eyes sliding back to Sebastian.

“Hence the nickname.”

“Jim!”

“Hey Irene. When the fuck is my check up?” Jim leans backwards, looking upside down at the pretty dark haired nurse who's currently holding clipboard and scowling.

“It's now, Jim. You said you'd be in your room.”

Jim lets himself fall backwards, landing on his back on the floor and using his feet to push himself halfway across the room. Then he rolls and hops up in a matter of seconds, grinning and bouncing around Irene.

“Can't sit too long without popping the hood!” He blows a cloud of smoke at Irene, doing a little twirl and skipping off down the hall.

Once he's gone, Sebastian scribbles a bit more in his notebook, copying down most of their conversation. He slowly looks up at the elderly man sitting beside him. Curiously, he takes a deep inhale of his own cigarette and, leaning forward, blows his smoke in the man's face. He doesn't expect a reaction, so it surprises him when the elderly head slowly turns to face him.

“Asshole.”

Sebastian sits back, startled.

“Sebastian, you have Sally in half an hour. I'll take you there.”

Sebastian turns his head towards Irene who's waiting expectantly, then back to the elderly man who's still glowering at him.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, and quickly pushes out of his chair to follow Irene.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Sally's office is pretty standard as far as offices go. As Sebastian looks around he feels like he could be anywhere. The principal's office back at school. His father's office at home.

The office in the back of the professor's house. Gasping into an open mouth and squirming as hands roam down his body. Forced double over the desk and gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. Pushing back into every thrust with no real feeling, just an overwhelming desire to fill the emptiness inside. A desperate attempt to fill the void of feeling.

“Sebastian.” Sally Donovan, M.D. That's what the little plaque on her desk says. She nods, and Sebastian blinks at her, the mental image slowly fading. He shudders slightly, still feeling hands on his skin. “You've been using the past tense.”

“What?”

“He only got drafted today. It'll be several months before he even reports. Yet you're referring to him in the past tense.”

Sebastian shrugs. He hadn't even realised he'd been using past tense. It wasn't a conscious decision, just an automatic speech pattern he'd fallen into.

“He was just a nice guy, that's all. It made me feel bad.”

“But that's nothing new, is it? You've been feeling bad for a while. Depressed.”

“Can't say I've exactly been a ball of sunshine, Sally.”

Sally shuffles around some papers on her desk and Sebastian hates that, hates that his life is laid out in words before her. He wants to knock the papers off the desk. _Isn't that what he'd done before he pushed you over it?_ Brush everything onto the floor. _Yes, just like that. They don't matter. Just knock them off._ He shakes his head lightly, trying to concentrate on the therapist's words.

“-you tried to kill yourself last week? Anything you want to say about that?”

“I had a headache,” Sebastian says, tone stubborn. Why does no one listen?

“So you took the recommended dosage of aspirin then?”

Sebastian's eyes narrow into a glare.

“I wasn't trying to kill myself.”

“What were you trying to do then, hm?”

“I just- I wanted the shit to stop.”

“The time jumps? The depression, headaches? The thing with your hand?”

“All of the above.”

While Sally scribbles down some notes and Sebastian tries not to show how irritated that makes him, he turns his attention to the window. A man runs into his vision, naked and screaming, waving his hands above his head. Sebastian's brow furrows in confusion. He thinks he should probably be getting used to the displays of the patients, but they continue to unsettle him. He's still frowning out the window when Sally looks back.

“Something the matter?”

“I suppose you could say there is, yeah. You see, I'm trying to work out why it is I have to stay in a fucking mental institution.”

“You put yourself here.”

Which is true enough. He'd signed the forms, but only after his parents had had their doctor stuff him in a taxi and order the man not to bring him back. What other choice did he have, really? He had no money, nowhere else to go. If he went home they'd probably have sent him right back. There was no choice, no other option.

“Everyone here is fucking crazy,” Sebastian says, voice a low growl. He's shaking a bit, whether from anger or frustration he can't quite tell. Sally looks at him, tilting her head slightly. There's no sympathy in her eyes, just a sense of curiosity.

“Do you want to go home?”

Sebastian takes a moment of silence to consider.

“Same problem.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

It's difficult for Sebastian to keep track of time. What with the meds and being stuck in the same few rooms every day, it's hard to differentiate. Jim's been better since he came back from isolation. He tends to float round the ward until late, only crawling into bed when he's just about to pass out. He's always gone when Sebastian wakes up in the morning.

Getting washed is one of the worst bits. There's constant supervision on the ward, which means even during baths there has to be a nurse present. Sebastian doesn't mind too much when it's Molly, because she chatters away and is bashful enough not to look directly at him, only letting her eyes flick back every so often to make sure he hasn't drowned. Val and Irene however, are starers. Sebastian thinks Valerie's been in this game long enough now to know better than to look away. Irene, he thinks, just likes the view.

Then again, at least washing offers a break in routine. It's terribly boring being stuck in the ward all the time. Jim helps a bit, even if he hasn't spoke to Sebastian directly that much. Or used his name. He seems to prefer pet names, and for some reason Sebastian has become known mostly as 'kitten' to him. He'd be offended, but mostly he's just happy that Jim's not yelling at him any more.

It's perhaps a week or so after his first session with Sally. Maybe more, maybe less. Sebastian tries to keep track of the days but they just seem to slip through his fingers. He's curled in his favourite chair at the back of the TV room. Usually no one bothers him back here. Jim's sprawled on his back on the sofa, trying to cheer the other Seb (who Sebastian has taken to referring to as 'Wilkes' in his journal) up.

“Sebastian. Look at me. Plaaaay with me.” Jim makes his little tiger hand puppet dance, putting on a high pitched voice. “Don't be sad. Don't be sad.”

It's almost endearing, the way Jim cares for the other patients sometimes. When he's not in one of his sour moods. A nurse breaks him out of character by handing him a little container with his meds. Jim tips his head back over the arm of the couch, emptying the tablets into his mouth and rolling his tongue out to show he's swallowed them. It's only when the nurse continues on to the other side of the room that he looks over to Sebastian. He taps the puppet thoughtfully against his lips before sticking out his tongue and shaking it, the two little pills rattling. He slips them off his tongue and quickly shoves them in his pocket.

“What're these?” Sebastian asks when it's his turn. The nurse explains they're just a laxative and shushes him when he tries to protest, because really, he doesn't need these. In that moment he decides to trust Jim. When he's given his tablets he pretends to swallow before quickly storing them away in his pocket. Jim grins, watching him from his place on the sofa and clearly pleased by this turn of events. He rolls off the couch, padding over to ruffle Sebastian's hair fondly and making the tiger puppet nuzzle against his cheek.

“Who's a good boy?” he says in his funny high pitched voice, making the tiger sway from side to side. “Sebastian is a good boy. Oh yes he is!”

At the nurse's office Mycroft seems to be causing a scene, although Sebastian can't exactly make out what it's about. It's only when Val enters that he overhears part of their conversation.

“No, you're off laxatives.”

Molly's behind her, looking rather sorry for Mycroft. She's always taking pity on the boys. Seb thinks that's going to ruin her some of these days.

“I could get him some prune juice.”

Mycroft laughs that off, looking at her as if the idea is preposterous. He storms off back to his room, clearly displeased. Jim looks from him, to Mycroft, then back to Seb with a sly little grin, before disappearing off to do whatever it is Jim does on his wanderings. Sebastian sits for nearly ten minutes before tentatively approaching Mycroft's room. The door has a large sign posted across the length of it, 'NO TRESPASSING' printed in capitals. Sebastian licks his lips and hesitates momentarily before knocking.

“Fuck off.”

“Mycroft. I have something you want.”

There's a pause. After a few long seconds he hears a brief, commanding 'Come in'. Cautiously, he opens the door and slides in. Mycroft's father pays for him to have a private room, so there's only one bed in it compared to his and Jim's two. Mycroft is sitting cross-legged on the bed, slicing a cake sitting in front of him on a crinkled sheet of tinfoil. Sebastian looks him over curiously and receives a glare in return that warns him to avert his eyes. He does so, moving to sit in the chair by the wall. Everything is a lot brighter and cleaner compared to the shared rooms. As Sebastian is looking around he spots the suitcases set up against the wall.

“You're all packed up.”

“I'm leaving in a month. My father has bought me an apartment."

There's a lull, a brief silence during which Sebastian isn't entirely sure where to go from here.

“Oh. Where is-”

“It's near the airport.” Mycroft cuts across him. “One bedroom, two bathroom, eat-in cake. He's got everything all ready for me.”

“You mean eat-in kitchen?” Sebastian chuckles quietly at the mistake.

“That's what I said, asshole.” Mycroft's head snaps up, and he gives Sebastian a glare that could rival Jim in one of his black moods. “So what do you have that I want?”

Slowly, Sebastian uncurls his fingers, the two laxatives settled in his palm. Mycroft is so absorbed staring at them that he doesn't notice the door slide open and Jim's head peek through the gap.

“Put them on the bed and get out.”

“You put yours on the bed.” Jim grins, looking pleased when Mycroft finally glares up at him.

“Oh for fuck's sake. Get. Out!”

Jim ignores this command, slipping fully into the room and clicking the door shut behind him. He's still grinning, looking as if he's having the time of his life as Mycroft flushes with anger.

“C'mon, Mikes. Don't take advantage of him 'cause he's new. We're only after some Valium.”

“Get the fuck out or I'm calling Valerie. Valerie!” Mycroft is half shrieking now, and Sebastian's eyes flick between him and Jim.

“Yeah, great idea, why don't you call Valerie? Go ahead and call Valerie and ask her for some Colace just like Sebbykins has in his fuckin' hand... Why does it stink in here?”

“I don't take Valium,” Mycroft informs Sebastian with a little nod.

“That's the fucking point, Mycroft. You don't take them. They give them to you, but you don't take them. “ Jim pauses, assessing the cake laid out on the bed before Mycroft. “Hey, you gonna eat-”

They're interrupted by the door swinging opened, and Irene popping her head in.

“Checks. Oh.” A slow smile spreads across her face as she looks between the three of them. “You have visitors, Mycroft.”

“I want some fucking Colace.”

“Talk to Sally tomorrow.” Irene flashes them another brilliant smile before shutting the door again. Mycroft looks on the verge of tears, struggling to keep himself composed in front of his 'visitors'. Sebastian's beginning to regret going along with this, the whole ordeal making him feel uncomfortable in a way that makes his skin crawl. He looks up to Jim as if questioning what happens now. Jim prowls towards them.

“I think you needa goooo, Mycroft.” Jim sing-songs. “I think it's been days.”

Sebastian decides he's had enough and pushes out of his seat, holding the hand with the tablets in it forward for Mycroft.

“You know what, I don't care-”

“I do. I do care.” Jim sends him a look that makes him step back. Suddenly Jim's face brightens, and he laughs quietly, turning to examine the room. “Daddy gets you a private. No one gets in. Hmmm. You never leave, except to go to the cafeteria where... you never eat. You're a laxative junkie so, I always thought you were like Greg. But now, I see you here with this great big cake... So, what's with that, huh?”

“My father owns a bakery, asshole. I like his cakes. If I eat anything else, I puke.”

Sebastian has been watching the whole exchange silently, but now allows his curiosity to prompt him into speech.

“Why do you eat it here, though? Why not go down to the cafeteria?”

“Do you prefer to go to the bathroom alone or when Valerie's watching?”

“...Alone.”

“Everyone likes to be alone when it comes out, I like to be alone when it goes in.”

During their exchange Jim has been playing around with a little compact mirror he probably stole from one of the nurses, letting the light reflect off it across the floor. Sebastian follows his gaze, noticing the way something silver is glinting from beneath Mycroft's bed.

“To me, the cafeteria is like going to the bathroom while twenty guys watch.”

“That is fucked up, Mycroft.” Jim grins, clicking his little mirror shut and nodding for Seb to follow as he opens the door. “C'mon.”

Jim's out and Sebastian's halfway across the room by the time Mycroft calls out.

“Stop! Fine. Assholes.” He lifts a stuffed owl from his bedside and pulls at it's head, revealing a small tear at the back. From there he shakes out several pills and slams them down onto the bed. Sebastian looks at Jim for confirmation before setting his tablets down as well. Mycroft immediately grabs for them as Jim grabs his, and they swallow them dry. Jim rewards Sebastian with a small smile before suddenly flopping down onto his back and pulling the bottom of the bed sheet up.

“No! Jim, don't! No, nonono, please.” But it's too late, Jim's already there.

“Dios fuckin mio.”

Sebastian spares Mycroft a glance before dropping down beside Jim. Beneath the bed are several tinfoil packages, all containing baked goods that are in various stages of being eaten. There's half an éclaire with cream dripping from it, the crust of a jam tart, and rumpled bun cases, among other things.

“I guess that's how daddy knows he's eating.” Jim laughs, lying on his back with his knees bent up.

“When I get more than one, Valerie makes me throw them away.” Mycroft's voice is quiet, more vulnerable than Sebastian has ever heard it. Jim's still giggling beside him, small body vibrating with his laughter. Sebastian looks at the mess of food beneath the bed and, in spite of himself, chuckles along with him.

 


End file.
